Glamour

“I want to look beautiful,” the young woman said to the Witch.

The Witch’s mouth widened in a smile that carried through to the glint of mischief in her eyes. She bid the woman sit, her open palm sweeping toward a soft velvet chair. The woman sat, sighing as she sunk into the deep comfort of a well-loved resting place.

The Witch walked over to a lovely oak cabinet, pulling open the doors. She stood for some time considering the options. The woman leaned her head back into the chair, listening to the sound of windchimes outside an open window. Looking around, she took note of a fireplace not currently lit. Over the mantle hung a large mirror in an ornate frame, in front of which burned two candles. Between them sat a silver censer that burned incense with a deep, earthy fragrance. A cat emerged from beneath the chair, bumping against the woman’s leg, then jumping into her lap. She absentmindedly scratched the cat behind the ears as she watched the Witch take a couple of small containers from the cabinet.

“Here are a couple of potions. I can let you have these, and if you’re satisfied with the results, come back and I’ll sell you a larger supply. If you like doing your own thing, I’ll sell you the recipe.”

The woman stood, letting the cat curl into the chair, purring loudly. She held out her hand with anticipation. The Witch placed one of the containers into her palm. She went on, “Now each morning, wash your face and pat it dry. Then apply a thin layer of this one all over your face. Make sure you blend well under your chin and ears. Don’t stop at the edges of your face. It will backfire if you do.”

She took the woman’s bottle and slipped it into a small cloth bag. As she handed the other jar to the woman, the Witch spoke again, “Then, take this one and apply a little to your cheeks and a little to your lips. Oh, and try this on your eyelashes.” She placed the second container into the bag, then bustled back to the cabinet, returning to hand the woman a tube of a dark potion. “Come back in a week. But don’t forget, you must put this on every day for it to have the desired affect. These potions will make your blemishes look as if they’ve disappeared.”

The woman took the tube, placed it into the bag with the other two containers, and whispered timidly, “Are there any words I should say?”

“Yes,” replied the Witch, giving the woman some empowerment words. The Witch knew the words would do more for the woman’s inner strength; the potions were but a panacea.

“You’ll be glamorous,” she explained, “eventually, you won’t even need the potions, though you might just want to use them anyway. For fun.” This she said with a little laugh, a jump, and a clap of her hands like a small child excited at a new game.

“By the way, what are these called?”

The Witch chuckled now; a low, deep sound from the belly. “I just call it ‘make-up,” still chuckling as she returned to her cauldron. Vegetable soup for dinner. “I’ll see you soon.”

The young woman made her way to the door, patting the cat on its head, as she passed the velvet chair. She smiled a little and clutched the bag of potions close to her chest.

Just before the door closed shut behind the young woman, the Witch turned back to her quickly and hollered out, “Wait one moment! One more thing!”

The young woman slipped back in the door with a quizzical look.

The Witch came close to her, looked deep into her eyes, and said quietly, almost imperceptibly, “When a man asks you what’s changed about you, just smile mysteriously and let them think it is but a Glamour, for so it is.”

“And if a woman asks?”

“Well, just send her to me. If you decide that you’re happy with the potions, and you want to make them yourself; you will be allowed to share with those who come to you, just as I do. These recipes have been handed down for generations. Now, go with my best wishes and discover your own Power.”

The cat jumped from the chair, slipping out the door as the young woman walked away. Windchimes sang in the gentle breeze. Dusk fell and the full Moon began her ascent. The Witch scooped out a bowl of soup and made her way out the front door to enjoy her supper on the porch swing. The cat jumped onto the swing and sat, sphinx-like, to await a chance to crawl into the Witch’s lap.

“She’ll be back,” the Witch thought as she sipped her soup. “She’ll be back,” she said aloud to her familiar. The cat purred in agreement.

~

© Suzy Jacobson Cherry 2022, All Rights Reserved

This story first appeared in Fandom Fanatics Create on Medium